Bearclaw Valley There's nothin' sweeter than my baby

Cole exhaled a quiet sigh, the kind that carried more weight than he'd ever admit. He shifted, his broad frame leaning closer as he reached out and pulled Nephele against him, his paw steadying her at her side. The way her tension seeped through her was as plain as the day stretched before them, and it gnawed at him.
You're nervous, he murmured, his tone low and steady, tinged with that familiar roughness. I can feel it. His gaze searched hers, soft but steady. You ain't gotta be like that 'round me, darlin'.
He'd often forget that he was a man of prowess, of stature that could often...be off-putting. Ain't gon'say the wrong thing.
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before he tipped his head slightly, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and something warmer, something softer. Where'd you come from, huh? Before I found 'ya? Tell me. The invitation was gentle, coaxing—an open door rather than a demand. She didn’t need to hide here, not from him.